THE  TOILERS 
OF  THE  SEA 


BY 

REV.  NEHEMIAH  BOYNTON,  D.  D, 


ANNUAL  5LRMON 


BLFORL 

^American  teamen’s  ^ricitb  Society 

AT  ITS 

L1GHTY-5LVLNTH  ANNIVLR5ARY 

SUNDAY,  MAY  9th,  1915 

BY  THL 

RLV.  NLHLMIAH  BOYNTON,  D.  D. 

IN  THL 

CLINTON  AVENUE  CONGREGATIONAL  CHURCH 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 


THE  AMERICAN  SEAMEN’S  FRIEND  SOCIETY 
76  WALL  STREET,  NEW  YORK 


1915 


THE  TOILERS  OF  THE  SEA 

By  NEHEMIAH  BOYNTON,  D.  D. 

Ps.  77:  19.  “Thy  way  is  in  the  sea,  and  thy  path  in  the  great  waters,  and 
thy  footsteps  are  not  known.” 

The  meagre  appreciation  of  the  sea  which  has  characterized  the 
world  at  large  is  rapidly  being  supplanted  by  the  knowledge  of  its 
importance  as  “sea  power.”  Many  people  have  marvelled  as  to 
God’s  reason  for  flooding  three-quarters  of  the  earth’s  surface  with 
water  and  like  the  man  who  declared  that  if  he  had  made  this  awk- 
ward world,  health  should  have  been  catching  instead  of  disease,  so 
there  have  been  others  whose  plan  of  the  universe  would  have  in- 
cluded no  more  sea ; no  more  wonders  of  the  deep ; no  ships  stag- 
gering to  and  fro  like  a drunken  man ; no  quiet  harbors  and  no  mad 
foam-crested  waves.  How  fortunate  that  God  Himself  made  the 
world  and  that  the  “spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the  surface  of  the 
waters,”  and  that  God  said  “let  there  be  a firmament  in  the  midst 
of  the  waters,  and  let  it  divide  the  waters  from  the  waters !” 

It  is  probably  the  unconquerable  nature  of  the  sea,  which  has  pre- 
judiced humanity.  The  inefficiency  of  the  human  instrument  bat- 
tling against  its  storms ; the  unrelentless  cruelty  of  it,  when  once 
helpless  humanity  is  in  its  grip,  and  the  far  reach  of  it  toward  the 
unknown,  with  its  mystery  and  silence.  The  ships  which  sail  away, 
but  never  come  back ; all  these  lend  a sombre  hue  to  that  which 
humanity  seems  to  enjoy  calling,  “the  salt,  unplumbed,  estranging 
sea.”  But  what  if  the  sea,  so  far  from  being  an  enemy,  was  a friend  ; 
what  if  it  were  a very  good  friend ; so  good  that  the  world  is  under 
bonds  to  it  impossible  of  satisfaction ; so  good  that  while  we  mitigate 
its  terrors,  and  control  its  anger  by  our  lighthouses  and  buoys ; by 
our  charts  and  compasses;  by  our  liners  and  men-of-war;  by  our 
international  treaties  and  hospitalities,  we  would  change  our  old-time 
spirit  of  enmity  to  a modern  gratitude  and  confess  our  advancing 
knowledge  of  the  significance  of  His  footsteps,  whose  ways  are  in 
the  sea. 

The  sea  is  a boy’s  friend.  Of  course  there  are  fond  mammas, 
plenty  of  them,  who  as  they  say  “so  dread  the  water,”  but  they 
forget  that  while  the  water  not  seldom  ducks  their  boys,  it  very 
seldom  drowns  them,  and  they  are  better  off,  safer  physically  and 
morally,  in  trying  their  strength  against  the  sea,  filling  their  lungs 


with  its  bracing  air,  beholding  its  wonders  and  hearing  the  music  of 
the  voice  of  God  amid  its  thundering  billows,  than  in  riding  across 
country  in  automobiles  with  their  smelling  tanks,  the  quacking  horns, 
and  their  invitation  to  soft  luxury  and  inactive  lassitude.  The  sea  is 
the  finest  gymnasium  for  an  active  American  boy,  and  parents  who 
are  seriously  engaged  in  the  task  of  making  men  out  of  their  lads, 
will  not  be  unwise  in  shunting  their  fear  and  dread,  giving  their  boys 
a boat,  and  taking  the  sea  into  partnership  in  their  man-making 
business. 

The  sea  is  the  mother’s  friend.  How  bare  most  homes  would  look 
if  stripped  of  the  bric-a-brac  and  the  essential  furnishings  which  the 
sailor  has  brought.  How  meagre  the  breakfast  table,  too,  if  the 
linen  cloth,  the  china,  the  fruit,  the  coffee,  the  sugar,  and  all  else 
which  have  traveled  over  sea  to  minister  to  family  comfort,  should 
be  eliminated. 

The  sea  is  the  father’s  friend.  When  it  no  longer  becomes  a com- 
mon carrier,  as  is  to  some  extent  true  to-day,  immediately  his  busi- 
ness registers  the  decline.  Business  lives  by  virtue  of  the  sea. 

The  sea  is  the  artist’s  friend.  The  imagination  revels  in  the  sea, 
and  whether  it  expresses  itself  in  music,  or  painting,  or  poetry,  the 
mood,  the  wistfulness  and  the  mystery  of  the  sea,  is  its  daily  manna. 
Subtract  the  sea  from  the  imagination,  and  immediately  it  becomes 
“as  idle  as  a painted  ship  upon  a painted  ocean.”  Poetry  and  prose 
apart,  with  no  riparian  rights,  would  be  barren  as  a deserted  isle. 
The  sea  is  a gift  to  the  imagination,  of  priceless  value.  Every  one 
of  us  is  in  his  imagination  a “Sea  Gypsy.” 

“I  am  wearied  with  the  sunset 
I am  fretful  with  the  bay 
For  the  wander  thirst  is  on  me 
And  my  soul  is  in  Cathay. 

There’s  a schooner  in  the  offing 
With  her  topsails  shot  with  fire 
And  my  soul  has  gone  aboard  her 
For  the  Island  of  Desire. 

I must  forth  again  to-morrow 
And  at  midnight  I shall  be 
Hull  down  on  the  trail  of  rapture 
In  the  wonder  of  the  sea.” 

We  are  all  of  us  poets  in  a way.  There  is  a lilt  and  a rhythm  in 
us,  every  one.  Who  does  not  recall  to-day  his  favorite  nook  by  the 
sea  or  his  boat  and  tug  hard  against  the  cruel  fate  which  binds  him 
to  his  toil  when  he  would  seek  his  loved  waters  ? Who  does  not  sing 


4 


“I  must  go  down  to  the  seas  again, 

To  the  lonely  sea  and  the  sky, 

And  all  I ask  is  a tall  ship 
And  a star  to  steer  her  by. 

And  the  wheel’s  kick  and  the  wind’s  song  and  the  white  sails  shaking 
And  a gray  mist  on  the  sea’s  face 
And  a gray  dawn  breaking. 

I must  go  down  to  the  seas  again, 

To  the  vagrant  gypsy  life 

To  the  gull’s  way  and  the  whale’s  way. 

Where  the  wind  ’s  like  a whetted  knife, 

And  all  I ask  is  a merry  yarn 
From  a laughing  fellow  rover. 

And  quiet  sleep  and  a sweet  dream 
When  the  long  trick’s  over.” 

The  sea  is  a friend  of  religion.  A man  whose  faith  is  an  experi- 
ence rather  than  an  exegesis,  continually  uses  the  symbol  of  the  sea 
for  the  expression  of  his  soul  passion.  Take  the  sea  out  of  the  Bible, 
and  what  a subtraction.  If  Jesus  had  never  sat  by  the  seaside;  had 
never  entered  into  a boat  and  pushed  from  the  shore;  had  never 
been  in  a storm ; had  never  uttered  the  solacing  words  “Peace,  be 
still,”  would  not  the  Gospel  be  shorn  of  something  of  its  adequacy, 
robustness  and  finer  meaning?  Many  a man  has  deposited  his  faith 
for  its  expression  in  the  metaphors  of  the  sea. 

“Once  on  the  raging  seas  I rode. 

The  night  was  dark,  the  storm  was  loud. 

The  ocean  yawned  and  rudely  blowed 
The  wind  that  tossed  my  foundering  bark. 

Deep  horror  then  my  eyelids  closed ; 

Death  struck,  I ceased  the  tide  to  stem ; 

When  suddenly  a star  arose. 

It  was  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

It  was  my  guide,  my  light,  my  all. 

It  bade  my  dark  forebodings  cease. 

And  through  the  storm  and  danger’s  thrall 
It  led  me  to  the  port  of  peace. 

Now  safely  moored,  my  trial’s  o’er, 

I’ll  sing  first  in  night’s  royal  diadem. 

Forever  and  forever  more. 

The  star,  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 


5 


Religion  would  indeed  be  impoverished  if  there  were  no  sea  whose 
metaphors  should  be  the  vehicles  of  its  longing,  its  aspiration  and  its 
hope. 

The  sea  is  the  patriot’s  friend.  It  is  his  friend  through  its  natural 
defense  and  per  contra,  through  its  uniting  power.  The  ideas  of  our 
forefathers  could  never  have  prevailed  except  for  the  sea.  There 
was  no  adequate  chance  for  them  in  England,  nor  in  Holland,  but 
on  the  stern  and  rockbound  coast,  with  three  thousand  miles  of  open 
water  between  them  and  those  who  disputed  their  ideal,  the  oppor- 
tunity was  afforded  for  the  growth,  the  maturity  and  the  strengthen- 
ing of  those  ideas,  which  to-day  are  gripping  the  heart  of  the  world. 
But  not  only  for  defence,  the  sea  is  also  the  great  purveyor  of  ad- 
vancing ideas.  It  is  as  true  to-day,  as  it  has  always  been  historically, 
that  the  progressive  nations  have  not  been  the  inland  nations,  but  the 
maritime  nations.  “It  was  never  a Babylon  or  a Timbuctoo,  or  any 
'city  of  the  inland  regions  that  was  forward  to  change  and  improve- 
ment. But  it  was  a Tyre,  queen  of  the  sea ; a Carthage  sending  out 
her  ships  beyond  the  pillars  of  Hercules  to  Britain  and  the  northern 
isles ; an  Athens,  and  Alexandria — these  were  the  seats  of  art  and 
thought  and  learning,  and  liberal  improvement  of  every  sort.” 

The  nation  which  has  the  longest  coast  line  has  the  greatest  human 
opportunity.  For  it  is  through  the  interchange  of  ideas  and  of  in- 
dustries, of  capital  and  of  customs,  that  the  world  advances.  A 
pent  up  Utica  may  be  smug  enough,  but  it  can  never  develop  mer- 
chants of  Venice,  for  “the  sails  of  commerce  are  the  wings  of  truth,” 
and  it  is  the  interchange  of  great  ideas  "which  is  the  condition  of 
human  advancement. 

The  greatest  question  before  the  world  to-day,  probably  is  the 
question  of  who  shall  command  the  sea.  Shall  it  be  one  nation, 
which  while  building  itself  into  maritime  power  has  unquestionably 
been  a mighty  benediction  to  the  world  at  large  ? Or  has  the  time 
arrived  when  an  international  guardianship  of  the  sea  shall  secure  its 
freedom  and  benefaction  to  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  equally?  No 
nation  can  be  more  keenly  interested  in  the  mighty  question  than 
America,  whose  interests  apparently  increasingly  require  that  the 
friendship  of  the  sea  may  be  made  possible  to  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth.  But  this  question  of  the  command  of  the  sea,  whatever  the 
immediate  answer  may  be,  inevitably  secures  for  the  sea,  a new 
appraisal  and  a re-affirmation  of  the  essential  nature  of  its  relation- 
ship to  developing  life.  In  man’s  great  struggle  to  subdue  nature, 
his  tools  have  been  the  plough  for  the  land,  and  the  ship  for  the  sea. 


6 


By  developing  his  plough  and  his  ship  he  has  gradually  secured  his 
mastery  over  the  elements,  but  his  plough  would  have  been  a petty 
tool,  save  for  the  reinforcement  of  his  ship  and  the  land  would  have 
still  been  a wilderness  but  for  the  deliverance  and  the  development 
afforded  by  the  sea. 

It  is  evident  from  what  has  been  said,  that  with  the  growing 
appreciation  of  the  sea,  the  importance  of  the  sailor  as  a human  asset 
must  also  be  confessed.  He  is  no  inconsequential  or  insignificant 
member  of  the  human  society.  Since  steam  has  revolutionized  ocean 
transportation,  the  sailor  cult  has  broadened,  bounded  no  longer 
simply  by  the  able-bodied  seaman  who  can  hand  reef  and  steer,  but 
must  include  the  engineers  and  the  oilers,  the  stokers  and  the  stew- 
ards ; in  fact,  all  on  shipboard,  whose  team  work  contributes  to  the 
efficiency  and  safety  of  the  ship.  This  means  the  presence  of  the 
skilled  mechanic  with  his  specialized  mind  and  his  superior  crafts- 
manship, and  on  the  whole,  lifting  the  sailor  cult  in  efficiency  and 
importance.  It  is  a singular  fact  that  while  the  farmer  with  his 
plough  has  been  permitted  to  share  adequately  in  his  conquest  of 
nature,  until  to-day,  he  belongs  to  the  properly  compensated  class 
and  the  sailor  has  been  largely  overlooked  as  sharing  the  wealth  he 
has  created.  He  is  poorly  paid  for  his  work.  His  accommodations 
are  not  too  luxurious,  and  his  place  in  human  society  more  humble 
far,  than  his  abilities  and  achievements  would  suggest.  Perhaps  the 
real  reason  for  this  is,  that  he  is  a sailor,  a sea  rover,  a detached 
spirit,  while  the  farmer  is  a man  of  locality  with  a permanent  home. 
But  in  any  event,  no  man  brings  such  contributions  to  the  world  and 
in  return  receives  such  meagre  recompense,  as  does  the  sailor.  His 
calling  makes  great  contribution  to  his  life.  His  strength  is  estab- 
lished by  his  opposition  to  wind  and  wave  and  his  courage  by  the 
conquest  of  adverse  surroundings.  New  countries  bring  new  sights 
and  new  ideas,  and  thus  his  mind  becomes  quick  and  well  stored. 
Danger  enlarges  his  sympathies  so  that  he  is  probably  the  most 
generous  type  of  humanity  in  existence.  He  could  never  be  shrewd 
in  a trade,  but  he  could  share  what  he  had  with  a stranger,  in  a 
manner  to  compel  admiration.  His  whole  character  seems  to  be  free 
from  those  astringent  qualities  which  make  landsmen  so  sharp  and 
cunning  and  exacting,  while  into  it  seems  to  have  been  put  something 
of  the  boundlessness,  the  sufficiency  and  the  royal  camaraderie  of  the 
tumultous  and  unmeasured  ocean.  Even  his  vices,  horrible  as  vice 
always  is,  have  a certain  blunt  and  out  in  the  open  quality  about 
them,  which  while  offering  no  apology  for  them,  makes  them  in  a 


7 


way,  understandable.  They  are  very  largely  the  uncontrolled  reac- 
tion in  society  of  elemental  instincts  released  from  long  and  tantaliz- 
ing solitude.  When  religious,  he  is  the  most  simple  hearted  and  whole- 
some of  spirits.  Genuineness  is  his  essential  characteristic.  He  is 
the  last  man  in  the  world  to  ask  for  help  ashore ; his  independence 
is  absolute ; but  he  is  the  first  man  to  need  help,  and  no  man  is  more 
grateful  for  the  consideration  of  his  fellows,  if  it  be  offered  not  as  a 
pious  dole  of  oily  charity,  but  as  a warm-hearted  hand  of  friendliness. 
He  has  ashore  the  needs  of  every  other  man;  he  wants  something 
for  his  body,  something  for  his  mind,  and  something  for  his  soul.  It 
is  this  man-to-man  ministry  which  for  more  than  four  score  years 
The  American  Seamen’s  Friend  Society  has  been  offering  the  sailor. 
We  have  placed  our  representatives  at  various  ports  in  the  world, 
and  without  ostentation,  calliopes  or  brass  bands,  have  been  doing 
and  are  still  doing  a most  essential  work  of  interpreting  the  sympathy 
of  the  landsman  for  his  brother  who  follows  the  sea.  To-day  in 
New  York,  there  are  twenty-six  thousand  men  from  our  Navy, 
ashore.  In  their  blues,  they  are  both  natty  and  impressive ; they 
comprise  a great  company,  but  they  do  not  represent  one-half  the 
daily  average  of  sailors  in  New  York  City,  for  we  have  over  fifty 
thousand  every  day  of  the  year  along  the  water-front.  What  can  we 
do  for  him?  First,  he  wants  a place  to  eat,  to  sleep,  to  spend  his 
leisure  hours.  He  wants  a place  to  trade  where  his  disabilties  in  bar- 
gaining, will  not  be  capitalized  in  the  interests  of  the  greedy  store- 
keeper, and  where  he  can  write  a letter  home.  How  little  the  world 
realizes  what  writing  a letter  means  to  Unaccustomed  people.  He 
wants  a place  where  he  can  play  an  innocent  game,  smoke  his  pipe 
and  chat  with  his  shipmates.  To  furnish  such  a place  as  this  under 
inspiring  auspices,  is  no  ignoble  business.  It  is  a great  undertaking. 
There  are  plenty  of  places  which  will  furnish  these,  as  decoys  and 
snares,  but  the  number  is  not  great  which  afford  them  out  of  whole- 
some sympathy. 

The  sailor’s  mind  should  not  be  a negligible  quantity.  Carlyle  once 
said,  that  it  made  a great  difference  whether  the  Indian  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains  was  beating  his  squaw  in  his  tepee,  or  hunting  bears,  for 
if  he  was  beating  his  wife,  the  price  of  skins  and  furs  would  steadily 
rise  in  London.  So  it  makes  a great  difference  what  the  sailor  is 
thinking  about;  what  ideas  are  in  the  forecastle  and  the  after-hatch 
of  his  mind.  Noble  thoughts  will  lift  his  soul  as  really  as  that  of  any 
other  man,  and  ignoble  thoughts  will  torpedo  it.  Since  1859,  our 
Society  has  been  putting  libraries  on  shipboard.  To-day  we  have 


8 


three  thousand  libraries  afloat.  More  than  a thousand  libraries  have 
been  made  accessible  to  our  Navy  boys  in  blue.  They  include  books 
of  travel  and  romance,  of  science  and  biography,  books  for  laughter 
and  books  for  thought,  books  for  morals  and  books  for  religion,  books 
which  make  their  appeal  to  the  many-sided  mind  of  the  sailor,  af- 
fording him  the  same  recreations  and  inspirations  which  good  books 
yield  to  us  prosaic  landsmen,  and  with  the  same  chance  of  rousing  in 
him  as  in  us  “those  thoughts  that  wake  to  perish  never.”  It  is  a 
good  investment  of  twenty  dollars  to  furnish  the  man  who  travels 
around  the  world,  with  diverting,  entertaining,  inspiring,  clean 
thoughts. 

The  soul  of  the  sailor  is  human,  too,  like  any  other.  It  isn’t  safe 
to  assume  that  because  he  is  not  a regular  church  attendant  through 
the  exigencies  of  his  calling,  that  his  soul  never  speaks  to  him,  and 
that  the  still  small  voice  never  falls  upon  his  attentive  ear.  He  knows 
the  sting  of  a guilty  conscience  as  well  as  anybody  else,  and  feels  the 
longing  for  the  pardoning  love  of  God,  as  keenly  as  any  other  human 
being.  Kipling’s  description  of  the  old  engineer  McAndrews,  who 
when  not  busy  with  his  engine  when  the  sea  was  glass,  and  the  winds 
were  zephyrs,  talked  with  his  own  soul,  is  an  exhibit  of  that  feeling 
of  sinfulness  and  need  which  is  in  the  hold  of  every  sailor’s  heart. 

“What  I ha’  seen  since  ocean  steam  began 

Leaves  me  no  doot  for  the  machine : but  what  about  the  man  ? 

The  man  that  counts,  wi’  all  his  runs,  one  million  mile  o’  sea ; 

Four  time  the  span  from  earth  to  moon 

How  far,  O Lord,  from  Thee  ? 

Marks ! I ha’  marks  o’  more  than  burns — deep  in  my  soul  an’  black. 
An’  times  like  this,  when  things  go  smooth,  my  wickudness  comes 
back. 

The  sins  o’  four  and  forty  years,  all  up  an’  down  the  seas. 

Clack  an’  repeat  like  valves  half -packed  ; 

Forgie’s  our  trespasses.” 

Nor  can  we  forget  a perfectly  human  experience  of  Mulholland 
who  repaired  his  broken  contract  with  God ; forgetting  God  in 
pleasant  weather,  Mulholland,  like  many  other  people,  remembered 
Him  in  storm  and  in  presence  of  the  terror  of  the  tempest,  made 
great  promises  as  the  price  of  deliverance.  But  the  roll  of  the  sea 
threw  him  violently  against  a stanchion  injuring  him  most  seriously, 
making  it  necessary  for  him  to 


9 


“Lay  still  for  seven  weeks  convalescing  of  the  fall, 

An’  readin’  the  shiny  Scripture  texts  in  the  Seamen’s  Hospital. 

An’  I spoke  to  God  of  our  Contract,  an’  He  says  to  my  prayer ; 

“I  never  puts  on  My  ministers  no  more  than  they  can  bear. 

“So  back  you  go  to  the  cattle  boats  an’  preach  My  Gospel  there. 

* _ * * * * 

I didn’t  want  to  do  it,  for  I knew  what  I should  get. 

An’  I wanted  to  preach  Religion,  handsome  an’  out  of  the  wet. 

But  the  Word  of  the  Lord  were  lain  on  me,  an’  I done  what  I was  set. 

An’  I sign  for  four  pound  ten  a month  and  save  the  money  clear. 
An’  I am  in  charge  of  the  lower  deck,  an’  I never  lose  a steer ; 

An’  I believe  in  Almighty  God  an’  I preach  His  Gospel  here.’’ 

The  sailor’s  soul  has  equal  need  with  every  other  in  the  Universe 
and  should  have  greater  sympathy  because  of  the  inevitable  relation- 
ships of  his  life,  which  detract  from,  and  somewhat  restrict,  the  areas 
of  his  spirit’s  advantage.  The  American  Seamen’s  Friend  Society 
through  its  Missionaries,  its  Institutes,  and  its  Chapels,  strives  to 
touch  the  whole  life  of  the  sailor  and  render  to  him  his  due  when 
ashore,  of  human  friendliness  and  sympathy.  Our  Sailors’  Home 
and  Institute  on  the  western  water-front  in  New  York  is  his  “com- 
fort bag’’  ashore,  and  stands  forever  as  the  beacon  light  of  our  in- 
terest in  and  love  for  the  men  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships  and 
do  business  in  the  great  waters. 

As  a matter  of  requital  for  value  received ; as  a matter  of  strategy 
for  bringing  in  the  Kingdom ; as  a matter  of  love  for  the  elevation  of 
individual  life.  The  American  Seamen’s  Friend  Society  is  worthy  of 
increasing  Christian  interest  and  Christian  investment,  for  the  foot- 
steps of  God  are  increasingly  known  as  the  world  advances,  of  God, 
“whose  way  is  in  the  sea  and  whose  path  is  in  the  great  waters.” 


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